Monday, June 27, 2011

Istanbul

I have wanted to travel to Turkey, Istanbul in particular, for many years now.  Luckily Mallory, one of my steadfast travel buddies, was eager to return to the city she fell head-over-heels for on a previous trip.  So once classes were over and I had said my goodbyes to my family and the city of Gori, off we went on our next adventure.

In a nutshell we had a wonderful time walking aimlessly, drinking gallons of tea and letting all the men flirt with us.  We decided at some point that it was entertaining for all involved to pretend to be from where ever the inquirer assumed we were from.  Over the course of a week Mallory and I were British, Aussie, German, perhaps French, and Canadian.  We were also sisters, lawyers and sculptors.  It's nice to reinvent oneself every once in a while.  I didn't feel too bad since most of the men were only flirting with us in order to sell us their "flying" carpets or other such collections.  Excellent one liners from eager merchants include "Hello honey bunny!", "Do you want a flying carpet?", and "Want to play with me tonight?"  Ok, maybe that last guy wasn't trying to sell us anything. 

On the first night and following day we wandered around the city, hitting the major sights and enjoying the occasional calls to prayer.  We accidentally wandered into the grand bazaar.  Not quite prepared to haggle, we merely priced out the things we wanted to come back for.  We finished the day by watching the sunset at the water's edge while eating cherries.  I was chided for my poor pit spitting skills.

Waterfront

Blue Mosque
Aya Sofia
The next day we once again wandered around, drinking tea and stopping at interesting shops.  We also went to the Basilica Cistern, which is an ancient water filtration system that lies under the city.  It's so beautiful, it's hard to fathom that the Romans created it for a very practical purpose.  Later that afternoon Mallory and I headed to our scheduled Turkish bath.  We thought we knew what to expect, scrubbing and soaping followed by a massage.  Actually, it turns out we didn't quite know what to expect.  Yes, there was the scrubbing, soaping and massaging.  But even though the brochure and postcards hinted at the use of swimsuits or at least the covering of the modest parts by a towel, this was not the case.  We took a new step in our friendship that day.  Nonetheless, I highly recommend the service, just remember to leave the swimsuit at home.
Turkish Coffee, yum!
The Cistern
We finished that day at a hookah bar that provided live music and a whirling dervish.  We were able to meet up with a fellow teacher, Jessica, who had also made her way to Istanbul. Even though we had only been away from Georgia less than a week we were already nostalgic.  We had fun telling Jessica's wide-eyed friend about our new Georgian traditions.

Whirling Dervish.  I love how peaceful he looks.

Next, we made a day trip out to the Princes Islands with the goal of reaching a beach.  Since the island doesn't allow cars the only transportation options are horses or bikes.  Mallory's second home is her parent's bike shop, so we negotiated a price with the bike guy.  We only briefly considering how amused our favorite boys would be by the sight of us on a tandem.  We chose our individual bikes and off she zoomed. I veered into a wall.  A pencil skirt was not the best outfit for the day.  After some very literal uphill battles I caught up and we searched for a beach.  Following everyone dressed in beach attire and carrying towels was only somewhat useful, as they were going to a beach that cost 25 lira.  Um, no way.  We did some more loops and eventually I found a guy who looked like he might have an answer for us and asked if there were free beaches anywhere, he directed us to a 5 lira beach.  Much better.
Princes Island

It was truly an amazing sight to see.  We settled on the rocks, as none of the men offered their lounge chairs.  I ventured into the sea only to discover that rocky beaches are damn near impossible to navigate.  I walked over the rocks with the grace of a baby giraffe, made it into the water and nearly toppled over on the mossy rocks.  In the end we made it to the edge of the water and sat down, letting the waves come to us.  After we had our share of sun, we returned the bikes, grabbed lunch, and made our way to the ferry.

That night we decided to hit the baked potato bar that we kept walking past.  This was probably one of the most entertaining waiters we had in Istanbul.  (The one who was horrified by Mallory ordering coffee before dinner, was a close second.)  This guy was instantly fascinated by us, or at least decided we were the night's entertainment.  We were handed a checklist for our potato toppings.  There was a lot of pointing and gesturing and asking what was what.  Suffice it to say, what was listed was not what was at the potato bar.  And if your waiter is certain that a pepper is actually a pickle, just let it go.  In the end, we ended up with half of our requested toppings and half of the other person's requested toppings.  Didn't matter, it was delicious.  The waiter fed me my potato.  I am not sure why.  After enjoying a second glass of tea with him and his boss, off we went into the night.

On our last day we met up with Mallory's friend who was en route to Tehran.  We spent the morning walking around Taksim square/ street.  After that we finally hit the grand bazaar.  This was an exiting occasion, having saved up our shopping energy for this special afternoon.  We already had decided what we wanted to buy and how much we wanted to pay.  Overall we met our shopping goals - scarfs, jewelry, spices, clothing, etc.  With all the evil eye products staring me down, I felt mildly like I was in a Turkish Tim Burton movie.  No matter, I still bought plenty of evil eye paraphernalia. One merchant in particular said that we broke his heart when we haggled him down, but that may have been because Mallory shrewdly tried to trade in her ring for a new one.  No dice, but it made everyone laugh.
Spice Bazaar

This was our final night together in Istanbul.  The next day Mallory was set to return to Tbilisi and I would board a night bus to Goreme.  We decided to hop on the ferry to the Asian side of Istanbul for our last dinner.  The timing was serendipitous as we made it to the boat right at sunset and drifted away as the call to prayer began.

Once in Asia we found we were starving and eventually found a place that had enough space to accommodate us.  But uh oh, the menu was only in Turkish.  We kindly explained to the waiter what we wanted, and discovered, we ordered way too much food.  Way too much.  Oh well, the Turkish Jake Gyllenhaal was sitting at the next table, so it was worth it.

After leaving the restaurant we somehow took a wrong turn and spent some time navigating in the dark.  It turns out it is much harder to find water in the dark.  We made it  in time for the last boat.  Unfortunately, it docked at a place pretty far from our hostel.  After what seemed like a long boat ride and a longer walk through the darkened city, we finally made it to the hostel.  The next day we made a quick trip inside the Blue Mosque, which was blissfully, mostly empty so early in the morning.  Then we went our separate ways, saying "see you on the other side!"
Sunset in Istanbul
Having a day to wander on my own before my night bus, I decided to go to the modern art museum that my friend Dana had recommended.  This turned out to be an amazing experience.  Many of the pieces were installations or videos, which provided an eerie mixture of sounds and echoes as you wander through the museum.  I found myself returning to a few paintings and videos several times.  It is a really well curated museum and it was a great way to see evolution of modern art in Turkey.  


After a day of walking around in the heat, I boarded my bus, fell into intermittent sleep and woke up in Cappadocia.  But what happened there is another story.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Scenes from Georgia

Scenes from a classroom

While teaching my resource officers prepositions-
Me: Where is the statue of Stalin?
Levin: In the city center.
Me: No, it is not in the city center anymore.  Where is it now?
Giorgi: Not in the city center, but always in our hearts.
Me (suppressing laughter): No Giorgi, it is in front of the museum.

Teaching my 5th grade-
Georgian teacher: Which words do you not understand?
Tango: Mike
Georgian teacher: Mike, it's the English version of Mikheil.
Irakli: Mike Saakashvili!

My 5th grade


Teaching my resource officers present continuous-
Me: Add "ing" to the ending. Running. Walking. Sitting.
Giorgi: Drinking and driving!
Me: Ara! (no!)

Chatting with my 3rd grade-
Student 1: Manuela you are very beautiful!
Me: Aww
Student 2: Manuela I love you!
Me: Aww
Student 3: Manuela how old are you?
Me: (provide confidential answer)
Student 3: That's my mom's age!
Me: Oh

Scenes from home

At the dinner table-
Georgian dad: Drink! Drink!
Me: Ara, ara.  (No, no)
Georgian dad: Drink! Drink!
My Georgian sisters and mom in unison: No!
Me: Thank you!
(hysterical laughter)

Over breakfast-
Me: Maya do you have (WWII) Victory Day off from work?
Georgian mom: No.  I work for a German bank. It was no victory for them.

In the living room-
Georgian sister:  The woman in the market told me these ribbons bring you different things.  This one is for luck, this one for love, this one for marriage.  Which do you want?
Me: I'll take the good luck one.
Georgian sister: Me too.  I don't want to be married.
Me: (picking up the marriage ribbon) Let's just put this one very, very far away.

Standing on the balcony watching a helicopter fly overhead-
Me: Whose is that?
Georgian sister: The military's.
Me: (after a pause) The Georgian military's?
Georgian sister: Yes, of course! (laughs)

One morning whilst drinking my coffee in the kitchen-
Georgian mom: Manuela!  Look outside!
Me: (wander out on the balcony and witness a dead lamb hanging from a post, being skinned) Oh how nice.  (sip my coffee and walk back inside)

Walking into my building I stop to study a neighborhood chicken hanging out in the garden.  I feel eyes on me and look up to see a man leaning out the window studying me, studying the chicken-
Me: Garmarjoba!
Him: (gives me strange look)
I take my exit.

Scenes from the street

Walking over the bridge on my way home a woman stops me and points behind me eagerly while smiling and speaking rapidly in Georgian.  I look behind me to see a beautiful, huge rainbow framing Gori fortress-
Me: Oh! Dzalian Lamazia! (Very beautiful!)
Woman: Kargi gogo. (Good girl)

Waiting to cross the street a car pulls over and a nun sticks her head out.  She asks me for directions-
Me: Oh! Bodishi (excuse me), ar visi.  (I don't know)
Nun: (laughs and drives away)

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Adaptation

After three and a half months of living in Georgia I have culturally adapted in several ways.  For instance, in DC I am overly cautious about crossing the streets due to crazy drivers on their cells phones, who drive too fast and do not pay attention to pedestrians.  However, in Georgia I happily walk out into the middle of traffic and wait in the middle of the road while things clear up on the other half of the road.  This is due to crazy drivers on their cells phones, who drive too fast and do not pay attention to pedestrians.  In all seriousness, the lack of crosswalks and traffic lights in Gori do require a certain amount of...bravery when crossing the street.  As I like to say, just close your eyes and wish for the best.  Same goes for riding in a car.  Traffic rules are...flexible.

Other cultural quirks I have picked up while living here:
  • Being able to bolonde (drink to the end!) a glass of homemade wine.  Anecdotal evidence, i.e. the severe hangovers that my friends suffered while visiting my Georgian home, suggests that my family's wine is exceptionally strong.  However, after my farewell suppra which included many toasts I had not a hint of a hangover.
  • Drinking chacha with the hope that it will cure what ails you.  Georgians jokingly believe that their adored moonshine known as chacha will cure everything.  While in the middle of a terrible allergy attack I took a shot or two with the intent of clearing my sinuses.  Seemed to work reasonably well.  And while it feels like you are drinking paint thinner, chasing it with a meticulously seasoned piece of lard is quite delightful.  Yeah that's right, I said lard.  Don't knock it until you try it.
  • Dancing.  I have always loved going out and dancing it up.  However, my clubbing days tapered off in the past few years as I got older and the scene got more annoying.  But in Georgia the young and the old all LOVE to dance.  No evening is complete until someone has played Sharika and danced around with what were previously perfect strangers.  Has-been top 40s, the latest from Russia or traditional Georgian music is all fair game on the dance floor.  I even spent a few days a week learning two traditional Georgian dances.  Hey, you need to do something to work off all that bread and cheese!
  • Departing to a destination in a taxi filled with strangers with the intent of staying in a strangers home.  It's not that there aren't hotels in Georgia, but living on a volunteer stipend tightens the purse strings, so more often than not staying in a stranger's home is the best option.  Same goes for taxis and marshutkas, they are often the easiest way to travel around the country.  Some of my favorite moments in Georgia have been the drives back and forth between Gori and Tbilisi.  There was the time that the gentleman upfront bought my friend and I some beers to enjoy on the journey and there was the other time when another guy fell asleep on me...
  • Georgian time.  Deadlines are not important.  Being on time is not important. However, be aware that this only applies to Georgians.  If you are not Georgian be prepared to receive a phone call demanding to know where you are.
These adaptations will be challenging to overcome as I re-immerse myself into American society.  There are many things that I will miss terribly about living in Georgia.  Including, but not limited to the following:
  • Toasting every sip of wine.  Drinking with a sense of purpose feels much more dignified. However, I will also enjoy being able to drink at my own pace again.
  • The food.  I have had sessions on making khinkali and kachapuri.  Hopefully I can approximate these and some other Georgian dishes upon my return home.
  • The people.  My family especially.  Georgians are truly wonderful, kind, sincere people.  Their hospitality cannot be topped.
  • The countryside.  There are so many beautiful places in Georgia.  I am very glad that I did my best to see as much of it as possible.
  • Sharing the roads/ sidewalks with farm animals.  My host family thinks it's hilarious that I come home with pictures of the neighborhood chickens or cows.  I loved being able to look to my side and see sheep, cows, chickens, dogs, and the occasional goat striding down the road too.
  • Walking past the market/ marshutka stand as it opens up for the day.
  • Walking past the market/ marshutka stand as it closes for the day.
That  being said I am looking forward to the following things when I return to the U.S.  Including, but not  limited to the following: nachos, french food, thai food, all not-Georgian food, craft beers, my boys, being able to show my tattoos, American TV, movie theaters, fireflies, baking, boxing, etc.

I have four more days in Georgia, then I am off to Turkey for almost 2 weeks.  See y'all soon!

    Tuesday, June 14, 2011

    Dancing in Georgia

    Here is a collection of photos of dancing in Georgia.  Nobody loves to dance more than Georgians.
    Dancing at a picnic

    Dancing at picnic

    Dancing at a picnic

    Dancing at a restaurant

    Dancing at a restaurant

    Dancing at another restaurant

    Dancing at another restaurant

    Dancing at another restaurant

    Dancing on a bridge

    Dancing at yet another restaurant


    Dancing at home

    Dancing at home

    Dancing at home



    I'll post some videos once I am stateside and have a faster internet connection!





    Saturday, June 4, 2011

    Two weeks to go

    It is already June.  Summer has arrived in Gori.  Everyone is eating ice cream.  The flowers and grape vines are blooming.  I am not sure how this happened so fast.  In just a matter of days I will being saying farewell to my Georgian family, students and co-teachers, and close friends that I have made while here in Georgia.  I am not an overly sentimental person, but this is going to be a tough one.

    It's hard to say exactly how much of an impact I have made and if I really did improve the English language skills of my students or family.  I guess the best that I can hope for is that they have learned some new things while also gaining confidence in using the English they do know.  I sincerely hope that my co-teachers have been inspired by some of the different ideas I brought to the classroom....if nothing else, they now know the hokey pokey.
    I suspect that my host mother fears for my starvation when I return to the U.S. and then move to London for grad school.  Last week she made a special effort to teach me how to make khinkali (Georgian dumplings).  My two host sisters also participated in the evening of khinkali making, thereby ensuring that I was properly educated in all aspects of the process.  My prior khinkali session with my friend Nino's family had already provided me with a base knowledge.  As a result my family was most impressed with my folding skills as well as my freakish strength which makes me an excellent kneader of dough.
    I tried to mix the meat, parsley and cilantro with a spoon and was quickly told to use my hands.

    Kneading dough.

    Excellently folded khinkali.

    Khinkali!
    Kachapuri and eggplant with walnut are also on the list of things my Georgian mother will teach me to make before I depart.  Unfortunately, I will not be around for the wine-making in October.  I suppose my education in all things Georgian cuisine will remain incomplete.

    Svaneti: The Western Frontier

    Last week the travel family took advantage of the Independence Day holiday to take a trip to Svaneti.  Svaneti is a region in northwestern Georgia that has remained fairly isolated due to the fact that it is very difficult to get to in good weather and damn near impossible in bad weather.  This strategic location has more or less kept out the numerous conquerors that have come through Georgia.  Even the Soviets had a hard time maintaining rule over the Svans.  Because of this Svans have preserved a very traditional lifestyle and even today they are culturally distinct from other Georgians and are known for being a bit rougher and rowdier.  That being said, every Georgian I met said: "oh Svaneti is beautiful, you will love it!"  followed by: "it will be very cold, bring many clothes." 

    So I packed my bag full of sweaters and my winter coat and left the balmy weather of Gori in pursuit of the western frontier.  Svaneti, it was indeed extremely beautiful.  But it was also very warm.  We all packed warm weather clothes but ended up with rosey sunburns while we walked around in our lightest of clothes.  

    Netty and I met up with Andy and we boarded the overnight train to Zugdidi.  Mallory, Rob and Justin boarded the same train in Tbilisi and were just a few cars down from us.  We had very inexpensive, but very comfortable accommodations.  However, our bunk-mate, a young Georgian man, was intent on marrying Netty.  Fortunately his energy petered out early and he fell asleep mid-proposal.  After a few bumps, and a few snoring neighbors, we arrived in Zugdidi around 6:30am.  We quickly made our way to a cafe to fill up on coffee and wait for our friend Chris.  He eventually showed up and we made our way to the marshutka stand where we would board a crowded bus for a 4 hours drive up through the mountains.  However, due to road construction we had more than a few elongated stops, many bumps and plenty of steep curves.  It's times like this I am grateful for my sturdy stomach, many of my fellow travelers were not so blessed.  We eventually arrived at our homestay in Mestia  in the early afternoon.  The boys, who are all living in villages, were ecstatic about the shower provided to us.  It had hot water and everything! 

    We headed in to town to look at the Svan towers that dotted the landscape of Mestia.  These towers are pretty amazing.  They are handed down through generations and remain only within the family's ownership.  In the good ol' days blood feuds were common and a method of taking over a tower was to kill everyone in the family.  The towers are still standing today and the families have built their homes around the structures.  After an evening out in downtown Mestia, which consisted of eating Svan food and walking around taking pictures of the towers, we headed back for showers and homemade black wine (courtesy of Mallory's neighbors).
    Svan Tower
    The next day we decided to go horseback riding.  I don't know why.  Nobody was especially excited about this prospect and I was downright terrified.  But I do believe the phrase "what else is there to do?" was used in this decision-making process.   Unfortunately, as beautiful as Mestia is, there is not all that much to do.  Horseback riding it was...

    Let's take a moment here to recap my failed career as a cowgirl.  Around the age of 8 I was convinced that I was going to learn how to ride horses and embark on epic journeys around the wild west, also known as the greater Wasatch mountains of Utah.  My parents will eagerly laugh (hysterically no less) and tell you how quickly this ridiculous idea was truncated.  I believe that I completed 3 lessons out of 8.  It turns out I was terrified of horses.  They are big.  They are smart.  And they know that they are smarter than you and therefore do whatever they please while you shriek in terror gripping the reigns and pray that you remain attached to the saddle.  I have never learned to ride faster than a trot.  We'll leave it at that.

    ...So twenty years later here I am staring down a horse.  While I stared at her big brown eyes I reminded myself about the Georgian medical system and that terrifying/ comical doctor's visit to see if I had strep throat.  Silly me, there aren't hospitals in Mestia anyway.  I took a deep breath and mounted my chosen horse.  I wouldn't say she was a pony, but she was definitely petite compared to the horses I rode back in my cowgirl heyday.  However, size is no issue when it comes to brainpower, once again this horse was smarter than me.  Once I was back in the saddle so to say, my horse and Rob's horse took off at a brisk walk, leaving the others and our guide behind.  However, unlike my horse, Rob's did not have a strong sense of where to go.  His horse took wrong turn which resulted in him being unable to steer her back and yadda yadda yadda, the guide took the reigns from him.  When I saw that the guide wasn't too concerned about where my horse was taking me, I settled into my role as the lead and happily rode along, forgetting my terror as I greeted every passing Svan with an enthusiastic "Gamarjoba!"   They all pretty much laughed and waved to me.  One woman told me "well-done!" in Russian. 
    Horseback riding

    My horse did not respond to being told to stop.  When I would tug on the reigns she would turn her head nip at my ankles.  My solution was to steer her in the opposite direction.  Since she was A) smarter than me, and B) stubborn (not unlike her passenger), she would refuse to move in the opposite direction.  Therefore this attempt to resulted in her stopping for a few moments.  However, she quickly figured out my plan and towards the end would basically do a 360 degree turn and continue on her way, no matter how far ahead of everyone else we were. 

    We followed the road through town, past the airport, to where the road ended and the open fields began.  At this point many of was lost control of our horses.  My horse turned into a brat -- a smart brat -- who was determined to eat grass and not move or walk me into tree branches.  At one point someone said "Manuela, you are going the wrong way!"  I responded with "Yes, I know! She doesn't care!"

    This portion of the excursion surely wore down our poor guide, who was alternately chasing after us who were being led astray or forcing our immobile grass-eaters to move.  Once we were back on the road, my horse led me right back to our homestay.  I found this impressive since she doesn't live there.  But her owner, a young Svan boy, was there waiting for her and she clearly knew this.  Turns out she isn't just stubborn, but also a bit fickle about the company she keeps.

    Our little jaunt resulted in some comical sunburns and severe saddle sores.  We waddled to town for dinner and then called it a night. The next day we took it easy and went to the local museum which has an interesting collection of archaeological artifacts, old manuscripts, and vintage photos.  Afterward, Mallory and I headed back to drink beer and chat while everyone else went on a hike.  This was a very early night since we had to get up for our 5am marshutka ride.    
    Sunrise in Mestia

    Our journey back from Svaneti was just as bumpy and complicated as the journey there, and at times very uncomfortable.  However, it was well worth the effort and time involved getting there.  Even if there isn't actually much to do there, it is still a breathtakingly beautiful place to visit.

    Wish you were here!